Punishment [antikvár]

She was walking home from school. It was nearly National Day. It would be the first 17 May without Mummy. Her national costume was too short. Mummy had already let the hem down twice.Last night, Emilie had been woken by a bad dream. Daddy was fast asleep; she could hear him snoring gently through the wall as she held her national costume up against her body. The red border had crept up to her knees. She was growing too fast. Daddy often said, 'You're growing as fast as a weed, love.' Emilie stroked the woollen material with her hand and tried to shrink at the knees and neck. Gran was in the habit of saying, 'It's not surprising the child is shooting up, Grete was always a beanpole.'Emilie's shoulders and thighs ached from being hunched the whole time. It was Mummy's fault she was so tall. The red hem wouldn't reach further than her knees.Maybe she could ask for a new dress.Her schoolbag was heavy. She'd picked a bunch of coltsfoot. It was so big that Daddy would have to find a vase. The stalks were long too, not like when she was little and only picked the flowers, which then had to bob about in an eggcup.She didn't like walking alone. But Marte and Silje had been collected by Marte's mum. They didn't say where they were going. They just waved at her through the rear window of the car.The flowers needed water. Some had already started tovtf^iV;:;,1J r ,